Текст песни Ю.Визбор - Не жалейте меня

That summer it rained,
And cried weather
Above that ahead
I did not see the outcome.

And in an old coat,
Among the people in the puddles,
As if among the things
Chagall I clumsily.

Do not spare me, spare ...
Now what to say whose fault is it? ..
You pour wine into glasses
And say: Hey, old man!
In the blood of wounded names
Drink, my friends, is now unvarnished
We are for the women left behind us,
And for women who have left us.

That summer it rained
And hopes were crumbling,
That God will reward us
For devotion and tenderness.

What Spila this murk -
Rotten garden branch ...
With all ever
Arranged as necessary.

Do not spare me, spare ...
Now what to say whose fault is it? ..
You pour wine into glasses
And say: Hey, old man!
In the blood of wounded names
Drink, my friends, is now unvarnished
We are for the women left behind us,
And for women who have left us.

That summer it rained
And it was very damp.
That summer ahead
Only Autumn us light.

And I hid one
banal little thought:
The coming spring -
Unbegun book.

Do not spare me, spare ...
Now what to say whose fault is it? ..
You pour wine into glasses
And say: Hey, old man!
In the blood of wounded names
Drink, my friends, is now unvarnished
We are for the women left behind us,
And for women who have left us.